


like we're living in a daydream

by nobirdstofly



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Exhibitionism, First Time, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobirdstofly/pseuds/nobirdstofly
Summary: Jon's not sure when his life became an actual porno, but he's really fucking here for it.





	like we're living in a daydream

**Author's Note:**

> pure filth, do not look at me. please keep this secret AF. title from Charli XCX, just because.

The only warning Jon gets is faint barking from outside, before he hears Leo’s nails on the hardwood, his collar jingling. It takes a second for him to recognize the sound of a key in the lock. He jerks to attention and pushes himself up from the dining room table. “Wait, don’t come in!”

He should’ve known it was the wrong approach, because he’s certain Lovett’s never followed a rule in his life without having a reason to. It’s hardly shocking when, seconds later, far from enough time for Jon to run to another room or pull his underwear on, Lovett rounds the corner with Starbucks in hand, saying, “You don’t get to keep me out when I bring you coffee.”

Coincidentally, it’s also the same moment that Tommy comes back into the room, completely naked, with lube in hand.

“Huh,” Lovett says after a long pause. Then, he holds up two iced coffees. “Guessing you don’t want this right now?”

Jon just gapes at Lovett as he walks away to put one in the fridge, trying to cover himself up by pulling down on his t-shirt. Lovett comes back and drops into the chair across the table from Jon, pulling a fruit and cheese box out of the little paper bag.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Lovett sounds mulish, which isn’t all that surprising.

“I—we,” Tommy starts, his voice a little higher than normal.

“Yesterday,” Jon says, when Tommy doesn’t continue. He can’t quite meet Lovett’s eyes, staring at the brim of his hat instead. “Last night— that was the, uh. The first time.”

“For real?” Lovett asks, and Jon has the weird urge to tell him everything.

About how when Tommy had caught Jon staring at him for the millionth time last night as Jon handed him a beer, and finally said, _What is it?_ Jon had taken the leap and kissed him. How they’d both gotten lost in it, and in each other. How they’d stumbled up the stairs to Jon’s bedroom, and by the time Jon caught his breath, Tommy had him pushed down onto the bed without a thought. How Jon had arched up into his hold, wanting, and how easy and familiar it was, even though they’d never done anything like it.

How Jon had woken up happy, his body aching pleasantly, to Tommy kissing him as Leo jumped up on the bed, tail wagging and whining to go out. How they’d taken Leo with them on a run, and Tommy had gallantly taken turns with Jon to carry him back. How Tommy had let Jon claim the first shower without complaint, then found Jon after his own and pressed him back against the dining room table. Jon had nearly spilled his coffee before blindly setting it down, kissing Tommy until they were both groaning for it. Until Tommy spun him around, pushing him over the table and falling to his knees behind him.

How Jon had said, _Tommy, what_ , before breaking off in gasp as Tommy pulled his boxer briefs down so he could spread him apart and lick over his hole with no preamble. And he’d kept going, pushing his tongue inside until Jon was rocking back, begging for more. Jon could feel Tommy’s jaw working against him, and the whole feeling of it was weird. Weird, but good. So, so good. How as Tommy had pulled away, he’d smoothed a hand down Jon’s back when he whined. Had said, _Hang on, I’m gonna get_ , only for Jon to interrupt with, _Fuck, just. Olive oil, or_. How Tommy had laughed, breathless, and said, _I’m not going to—jesus, hang on a second._

“For real,” Tommy says, breaking Jon out of his train of thought.

“This is the second time? And he’s already got you bent over the fucking table?” Lovett’s voice is tinged with disbelief as he sips angrily at his coffee and stares Jon down.

Jon laughs, unable to help it. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t yelled at Lovett to get the fuck out, or just run from the room himself yet. All of this feels surreal and also, somehow, unsurprising. Lovett tears the wrapping off the box, and the creaking of the plastic is loud in the silence. He pulls off the top and Jon watches him in disbelief as he plucks out a cracker, digs it into the brie, and stuffs it in his mouth.   
  
“This really just started?” he asks, once his mouth is mostly empty.

“Yes,” Jon says, reaching out for it like a lifeline. He doesn’t want Lovett to think that he, that _they_ have been hiding anything.

He glances over his shoulder at Tommy. Tommy looks skeptical, but he steps forward. “Yesterday,” he confirms again, laying a hand on Jon’s back and setting the lube on the table a little defiantly. He gestures toward the door. “So do you want to…?”

Lovett leans back in the chair. “Okay then. Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry?” Tommy’s voice breaks a little on the second word.

Lovett shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

“Several, pretty important reasons come to mind,” Tommy says, his hand sliding around to Jon’s hip, and he grips so hard that Jon gasps.

“Actually, wait. Pause, or whatever,” Lovett says, pushing himself up and carrying his coffee into the kitchen.

“There’s no ‘pause,’” Tommy calls. Then, quieter, to Jon, “What the fuck?”

“Jon, where’s that vodka you’ve been squirreling away?” Lovett yells back. “I’m having a crisis!”

“In the freezer,” Jon answers automatically, his attention split. “It’s not going to be any good with that, though!”

“Plus it’s nine fucking thirty in the morning,” Tommy mutters.

“I make my own decisions!” Lovett says, and Jon hears the freezer open. “I’m not watching my two best friends fuck completely sober!”

Jon shrugs and turns to look at Tommy. Tommy kisses him, and it’s clearly meant to be a quick peck, but when Jon opens his mouth, Tommy takes full advantage. He must have brushed his teeth while he was upstairs, judging by the strong mint taste, which is kind of charming.

“Leave you alone for two fucking minutes,” Lovett mutters, walking into the room, coffee in hand.

“Yes,” Tommy says, “this clearly happened because you leave us alone too often.”

Lovett ignores him and sits back down, pulling a leg up and waving his hand magnanimously. “Proceed.”

“Seriously?” Tommy asks, dry as bone. But he hasn’t moved away, Jon notices. He hasn’t gone to Jon’s bedroom and put on his clothes, or forcibly led Lovett out the door. He hasn’t stopped touching Jon.

Lovett’s staring at them, his head tilted, a small smile on his face. “Only seems fair, right? If you’re going to exclude me from this part of your lives, and I’m assuming you—”

“No one’s _excluding_ you,” Jon says, rolling his eyes.

“—will be,” Lovett continues, louder. “Then I should get to watch this time.”

Tommy huffs, but he doesn’t sound angry. “By what logic?”

“It’s in the fine print of the company contracts,” Lovett lies, smirking.

Tommy leans his head against Jon’s shoulder for a second, then looks to Jon. “What do you think?” he asks, not soft enough that Lovett won’t hear.

Jon’s breath catches. Is Tommy really suggesting, are they really going to, to do that _now_? Tommy kisses the corner of his mouth and steps closer so he’s right behind him, tightening his hand on Jon’s hip. Jon can feel the hard line of Tommy’s cock against his bare ass.

“It’s your call,” Tommy whispers, dipping his head to brush a kiss against Jon’s jaw.

“You’re—?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Tommy rolls his hips against Jon. “I—I’m really good. If you are.”

Jon takes a few deep breaths, staring right back at Lovett. “I’m good,” he says, and, holding Lovett’s eyes, leans back down, bracing his elbows against the table.

“ _Fuck_ , Jon,” Tommy says, running his hand up Jon’s taut spine. Lovett sits forward a little, eyes rapt.

Jon sees Tommy pick up the lube out of the corner of his eye, and Tommy wastes no time in slicking up his fingers and pushing one into Jon, easily thanks to his work before. He moves it shallowly before going to add a second.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers against the nape of Jon’s neck. “Don’t you want Lovett to see how good you can be?”

Jon exhales on a moan, as both fingers start to push inside. He moves his hips back, eager to take them deeper, faster.

“God,” Lovett says, barely more than a breath, his chin propped on one hand, the other holding his coffee. His eyes move up to look at Tommy over Jon’s back. “You’re really just— two right away?”

Before Tommy can answer, Jon says, “He ate me out, earlier. Right before you walked in.”

The lid of Lovett’s cup threatens to pop off with how hard he’s squeezes it. “Fuck, wish I’d gotten up earlier, then.”

“Not late and with Starbucks?” Tommy quips, but Jon bites his lip, thinking about how it would have been if Lovett had seen him like _that_ instead. That exposed and — it’s not like what he’s doing now, taking two of Tommy’s fingers easier and easier with each pass, isn’t vulnerable, but it feels less so, somehow.

It probably won’t, Jon thinks, once Tommy’s actually fucking him. Then Lovett will be able to see everything anyway, see Jon cracked open and desperate. Jon’s pretty close to that already, if he’s being honest with himself.

Lovett’s quiet as Tommy works him open enough to edge in a third finger, the wet sounds of Tommy fucking into him the only noise in the house besides Jon’s ragged breathing, laid over the faint scuffle of Leo and Pundit playing in the living room.

Jon lets his eyes fall shut when Tommy curls all three fingers at just the right angle, a loud groan loosed from his chest without his permission.

“How’s it feel?” Lovett asks suddenly, his voice hushed like he’s in a library, or a museum.

“Pretty sure you know, oh fuck, Tom. _Fuck_ , do that again.” Jon rocks back harder, gasping as Tommy obeys him. He tries to keep his eyes open and fixed on Lovett. “Pretty sure you know how this feels.”

“In theory, sure. But I’ve never been fucked by one Tommy Vietor. Details, please.”

Jon and Tommy both groan at that, and Jon doesn’t know where this is all going, but that would be good with him. That would be really good with him. Maybe they could move it to the bedroom so Jon could lie down after this, but the idea of watching Tommy with Lovett is kind of great. He’s not sure when his life became an actual porno, but he is, apparently, really fucking here for it.

“Well, Jonathan?” Lovett prompts. He’s barely drank any of his coffee, and Jon wonders if that’s a marker of how disgusting it must be, or because he’s distracted. Jon really hopes it’s the latter.

“Feels so good. So, so good, oh my god,” Jon says, all in one breath. “Feel so full, can’t wait for, _fuck_. For his dick.”

“Christ, Jon,” Tommy says, grinding against his ass, next to where his fingers are moving quicker.

“A ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one,” Lovett says, but it doesn’t sound as flip as it normally would. He’s leaning forward, his hands clenched together in front of him on the table. He looks to Tommy. “Feeling’s mutual?”

“God, yes,” Tommy says, and bends down to kiss Jon’s shoulder. “You should feel him, Lovett. So tight but so fucking eager for it.”

Jon whines, burying his face in his arms as Lovett responds, “Yeah, I can see that. You gonna actually fuck him anytime soon?”

Tommy huffs out a humorless laugh. “Not really taking notes here.”

“Well that seems unwise.”

“Why, am I not doing a good enough job on my own? What do you think, baby?” Tommy punctuates the words with a hard push of his fingers in, hitting Jon’s prostate directly. Jon moans, loud, both from the feeling and how he’s gotten a little more weak-kneed at _baby_.

“I can see his face, though,” Lovett argues. “I can tell you what he likes.”

“I think I’ve got a handle on that,” Tommy says, running a hand up Jon’s back.

“Jon,” Lovett says. “Hey, Jon, look at me.”

Jon raises his head, his eyes blearily focusing on Lovett. “What?” he says, shooting for indignant but mostly just landing around wrecked.

“You want me to tell Tommy when you’re liking it? When you want more of something?”

Jon’s breath hisses out of him. It’s not an unappealing idea, but he can barely focus on anything except the sure movement of Tommy’s fingers. “I don’t— sure, Jon, whatever.”

“Like right now, for instance,” Lovett says. “He definitely wants your cock in him already.”

“Is that right?”

Jon can hear the smirk in Tommy’s voice, but that doesn’t stop him from gasping out, “Yes, yes, please.”

“Fuck,” Lovett says, soft. “Bet you can get him to beg for anything.”

“Haven’t really had the chance yet,” Tommy admits, and Jon bites back a moan.

Lovett laughs, looking at Jon, but it’s not cruel. “You should try it sometime. I think he’d be good at it.”

Tommy curls his fingers and rubs at that spot inside until Jon’s moan is unbroken, loud and continuous, before he leans forward and says, right into Jon’s ear, “Is he right? Are you ready?”

Jon nods frantically, and Tommy pulls his fingers out and steps away. Jon can hear the sounds of Tommy slicking his own cock, but when he tries to turn to watch, Tommy says, “Look at Lovett.”

Lovett can obviously see what’s going on, judging by how entranced he looks. Jon feels a little smug about it. He doesn’t know a ton about cocks, but he’s pretty confident that Tommy has a good one. Jon’s a fan, at least.

Tommy steps right up behind him again, dragging the head of his cock down Jon’s ass to where he’s spread open and waiting. “Keep looking at him, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon says, or gasps, because then Tommy’s pushing inside him. It’s a fight to not close his eyes, to keep them on Lovett, who’s raptly watching him back.

Tommy takes his time, rocking his hips in shallow, slow motions, easing his cock inside carefully, just like he did last night. Jon pushes back, trying to take more, faster, but Tommy grabs his hips right away and shoves him forward. He’s trapped between the wood of the table and Tommy’s strength. He’s not going anywhere.

“Wait, baby. I’m gonna give it to you, just wait a second,” Tommy says.

It should sound stupid, like bad dialogue coming out of Tommy’s mouth because Jon forgot to turn down the volume on his laptop before hitting play on something he'll have to erase from his browsing history, but instead it’s — good. Really good.

Lovett watches Jon, taking another drink of his coffee. Then he pops a grape into his mouth, and smiles as his teeth audibly break into the skin. At the same moment, Tommy slides further in, and Jon moans.

“Feels good?” Lovett asks, his smile edging into a smirk. He taps up at the brim of hat, so it sits higher on his head. Giving him a better view, Jon thinks.

Tommy pushes in again, deeper, his hands tightening on Jon’s hips, and Jon just moans louder. Tommy slaps his hip lightly. “Tell him.”

Jon glares across the table as best he can. “Yes, Lovett. Of course it fucking does.”

Tommy laughs, and Lovett looks past Jon to him. “Can’t believe you’re not already in him.”

“Agreed,” Jon says, his voice strained.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy says, and Jon can tell he’s aiming for casual, teasing, but he says it fast enough that the words blend into one. He finally, finally pushes in all the way, and Jon lets his head fall forward onto the table, struggling to breathe through the fullness.

Tommy gives him a minute to adjust, keeping his hips still as he smooths his hands over Jon’s shoulders before bringing them around under his chest. “Come on,” Tommy says, softly, pulling him back up so he’s looking toward Lovett.

Lovett is cross-legged in the chair and leaning on the table, so close it looks like he’s about to climb onto it. He could, Jon thinks. It’s sturdy, it’d take his weight. He could crawl across it to get to them and, and. Jon’s mind kind of blanks with what happens then, what they could do. Lovett would have ideas, he always has ideas. Most of them are even pretty good.

“Ready?” Tommy says, and Jon nods eagerly. Tommy pulls out a little bit and then shoves back in, keeping it up until he’s drawing out nearly all the way with every stroke before thrusting in, so Jon can feel every inch, each time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jon chants, his head falling forward so he’s looking up at Lovett through his eyelashes. He’s on the edge in no time, between the weight of Tommy’s cock and Lovett’s eyes.

This isn’t how Tommy fucked him last night. It wasn’t this measured, this careful, and maybe that’s because it was the first time, but maybe it’s not. It seems almost like, like Tommy’s showing off, and something about that, about him making sure they look good for Lovett’s benefit, is electrifying.

For his part, Lovett’s eyes are flicking between Jon’s face and higher, presumably to Tommy’s, and then lower. Since Tommy’s standing, Lovett should have a fairly unobstructed view of his muscled chest, his broad shoulders, the way he’s probably flushed halfway down his sternum.

Lovett meets Jon’s gaze and raises his eyebrows. “Well,” he says, extending a hand, palm up, “take it off.”

Before Jon can say a word, Tommy’s hand slides up his back underneath his t-shirt, stopping the movement of his hips. He leans down, his breath hot on Jon’s ear. “Go ahead.”

Jon pushes himself up, Tommy moving with him, and his breath catches, the angle of Tommy’s cock shifting inside him. Lovett watches him with a knowing look. Jon pulls his shirt off with help from Tommy, who tosses it to the floor after. Lovett wolf whistles, and Tommy laughs into Jon’s shoulder, even as he palms at his pecs.

Lovett sinks back in the chair, steepling his fingers together. “Not bad, not bad.”

Tommy kisses the side of Jon’s head, and Jon turns as much as he can, knocking his shoulder back into Tommy’s body to catch his mouth in a kiss. Tommy moans and grabs his chin, holding him in place for a long moment as they make out. Tommy’s rocking his hips in brief, stilted movements that make Jon squirm from wanting more.

“Okay, okay,” Tommy says into his mouth, and breaks away so he can push Jon down to the table. Jon settles back on his forearms, palms splayed against the wood.

“Come on,” Lovett says, wriggling like he’s trying to get closer again. “Use those muscles for something worthwhile.”

Tommy huffs a laugh, but he starts thrusting harder and faster anyway, leaving Jon gasping as he grasps for purchase on the table and finds none, his hands squeaking as they slip and catch on the surface.

“Here, just,” Tommy says, and shifts, moving Jon with him, readjusting him where his hips are bumping into the table. Jon’s cock hangs hot and hard and neglected just under the edge of it.

Jon doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he hits the perfect angle, his cock sliding past Jon’s prostate and then ramming into it on the next thrust. Jon cries out, and his knees buckle, almost all his weight suspended between the table and Tommy’s hands.

“That’s it,” Tommy breathes, and keeps at it. When Jon looks up, Lovett’s staring at him, rubbing his fingers over his open mouth. Tommy braces a hand near Jon’s head, so he can get more force, driving Jon further onto the table each time he shoves forward. “You like Lovett watching you? Seeing you like, like this?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Jon moans, grabbing at Tommy hand for that little bit more contact. “Tom, please, _please_.”

Tommy lets go of Jon’s hip to reach down, wrapping a hand around his cock. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

It’s not going to take much time at all for him come like this, with Tommy buried inside him, under Lovett’s hot stare. He tries to keep his head up so he can watch Lovett, but it’s a losing battle, and he ends up with his cheek pressed into the wood as he pants against it.

“Is he always,” Lovett says, then stops to clear his throat. “Is he always so loud?”

“So far,” Tommy tells him, his voice barely there. Jon can feel where his arm is shaking. He’s trying to hold back, trying to get Jon off first.

“Go ahead,” Jon says, a struggle to get actual words out. “Please.”

“Jon, are you—?”

“I wanna feel you.”

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Tommy says through gritted teeth, and he releases Jon cock so he can grab his hips again with both hands, driving in forcefully again and again until he groans. He collapses against Jon’s back, pinning him to the table.

Jon can feel it spreading inside him, and it makes him sob. He’s still so fucking hard. “Feels so good, you feel so good. Lovett, you have no— feels so fucking amazing, _god_.”

“Are you close?” Lovett says, over the sound of Tommy panting into the side of Jon’s neck.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I can’t. ‘M so close,” Jon rambles.

Tommy noses at Jon’s hairline, his ear, presses a kiss right below it. “What do you want?” he asks, voice gravelly.

“ _Anything_.”

Tommy hums, and then pushes himself up. His spent cock slips out of Jon, and he runs a soothing hand over Jon’s back when he winces. “You wanna get Lovett off?”

“Fuck, yes. Is that—?” Jon pushes himself up on trembling arms so he can look at Lovett, who looks stunned. “Can I? Will you let me?”

Lovett works his jaw a few times before sound comes out. “Yeah, sure. Fuck it. Why not?”

Jon immediately goes to round the table, but Tommy catches him from behind by the shoulders. “How do you want him?” he asks Lovett, and it makes Jon shiver.

“Hmm,” Lovett says, like he’s distracted and not staring hungrily at Jon. Like he’s considering what to order for lunch, or what Spotify playlist to put on next. “How good is he at sucking cock?”

Tommy’s hands tighten on Jon’s shoulders. “I don’t know yet.”

“Oh fuck.” Lovett’s already pushing his chair back from the table, hands working furiously to shove down his sweats. His hard cock springs out, a little wet at the tip, and Jon takes a step forward without thinking about it.

Tommy chuckles and pushes Jon in his direction. “Go on, then.”

He’s on his knees in front of Lovett, his hand wrapped around his cock, before he quite realizes. He holds Lovett’s wide-eyed stare as he licks down the side to the base and back up.

“Have you done this before?” Lovett asks, his hand coming to rest lightly on Jon’s jaw.

Jon leans into the touch. “Not since college.”

He barely hears Tommy curse behind him, since it’s echoed by Lovett as he takes the head into his mouth. He’s thick, thick enough it’s stretching out Jon’s jaw and the corners of his mouth. Jon focuses on breathing through his nose and trying to take more in, bobbing his head. He can’t take much, but god, he wants to try. Wants to get better.

“God, that’s good,” Lovett’s saying. “Look so good with a cock in your mouth, should’ve fucking guessed.”

Jon moans and wraps a hand around what he can’t fit in his mouth, reaching down to his own cock at the same time. He starts when he feels the warm press of Tommy behind him. Tommy wraps a hand around the one Jon has on his cock, overlapping, pumping in time with how Jon's moving on Lovett’s. Jon moans, taking Lovett deeper as pleasure starts to unfold inside him.

“That’s it,” Tommy says. “Don’t hold back.”

Jon couldn’t if he wanted to, coming into his and Tommy’s fists as any sound he makes is muffled by Lovett’s cock. He has to pull off to close his eyes and catch his breath, and he can feel Lovett’s hand carding through his hair.

“You’re so hot. So, so hot,” Lovett says, but it has an edge of desperation to it.

“Scoot over.” Tommy nudges Jon a little, moving around so he’s kneeling next to him. “Like this,” he says, smiling at Jon as he starts to lick at the base of Lovett’s cock. “Come on.”

Jon’s cock twitches painfully at the sight, at the _idea_ , but he leans in again, taking Lovett back into his mouth as Tommy keeps going, even moving down to lap at his balls. Lovett groans, his head thunking back into the chair he’s sprawled on.

“Should be fucking illegal,” he says. “This is ridiculous, this is. God, who _does_ this.”

Tommy pulls away, ignoring Lovett’s noise of complaint. “Want us to stop?”

“Fuck, no,” Lovett says, trying to get a grip in Tommy’s hair and bring him back.

Tommy laughs and goes easily, mouthing at the base again before leaving sucking kisses up to the tip, where he licks at the corner of Jon’s mouth long enough that Jon finally gets the hint and pulls back, letting Tommy kiss him sloppily around the head of Lovett’s dick.

“What kind of fucking porn are you— fuck, don’t. Don’t stop, jesus.”

Jon lets Tommy go down this time, sitting back a little to watch in awe. Tommy’s good at this, effortlessly good. So good he takes in all of Lovett’s cock with barely any fuss. When Lovett tries to buck up, Tommy pulls off and says, “Help me hold him down,” and doesn’t wait for Jon to leap into action before he’s sucking him down again.

Jon’s hands flex helplessly on the parts of Lovett he can reach, pressing him back into the chair, unable to decide if he wants to watch Tommy’s hollowed-out cheeks or Lovett’s shocked, glazed expression. He can still feel Tommy’s come inside him, fucking leaking out of him, and now this, Tommy deepthroating Lovett like it’s an everyday occurrence.

“Are you going to let us see you?” Jon asks. He means for it to sound teasing, but his reverence bleeds through. Lovett doesn’t seem to notice, he just nods, looking between Jon and Tommy. He opens his mouth, hell-bent on talking more, so Jon says, “Please, Lovett. We want to see you. Wanna see you so bad.”

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Lovett gasps, and his whole face screws up seconds before Tommy’s pulling back so he doesn’t choke. Lovett groans, and Tommy echoes him, swallowing around his mouthful.

When Tommy pulls back after licking Lovett’s cock clean, he reels Jon in and kisses him. Jon can taste Lovett on his tongue, behind his teeth, and, if he hadn’t just come, he’d crawl into Tommy’s lap to try to get more of it.

“You should fucking charge for that,” Lovett says, head lolling back against the chair, eyes still shut.

“Which part?” Tommy’s smiling so hard it’s infectious, or maybe Jon just can’t help it, either.

“Fucking, all of it,” Lovett says, and Jon throws his head back, laughing. Tommy joins in, wiping the hand still covered in Jon’s come off on Lovett’s sweatpants where they’re around his ankles. Jon guiltily does the same, but Lovett’s grumbling lacks any real heat.

Tommy stands, offering a hand to Jon, who lists into him as soon as he’s up. He can feel more come slide out of him, and he shivers at the sensation. Lovett watches him closely. He can probably see it, Jon realizes, where it’s starting to trail down his thigh.

Tommy grabs a piece of cheese out of mostly full box on the table. “What, couldn’t find a salad?”

“Har, har. If I’d known I’d be getting a free show, I would’ve gotten something way more decadent,” Lovett says, shaking his head. Then he seems to hear what he said. “Not that I. If I had known, I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s cool,” Jon interrupts, talking around a cracker. “Glad you did.”

Lovett takes a sip of his coffee, then grimaces, like he forgot that he’d ruined it. “Um?”

“Yeah, ditto,” Tommy says, like the giant dork he is.

“Cool, cool, well.” Lovett stands, pulling up his stained sweats. “I should get going. You two enjoy, uh. Enjoy your day.”

Jon’s chest tightens and he takes a step toward Lovett. Tommy follows. “Don’t go.”

“You’re quite literally dripping with come, which is. Wow, never thought I’d say. Anyway. I have… things.” Lovett’s not meeting his eyes.

“Lovett,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “If you want to go, go. But we don’t want you to.”

Lovett looks up, a fleeting glance, first at Tommy, then at Jon. Jon steps closer, slowly reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. “I really need to take another shower,” he says, which makes Lovett snort, “but I’d like it if you were still here when I get out.”

“Yeah?” Lovett tilts his head up to look at Jon.

Jon kisses him instead of answering, moving his hand up to touch Lovett’s neck. Lovett moans and deepens it gratifyingly quick, grabbing onto Jon’s arms. Tommy steps up behind Jon, reaching around his hip to get a hand on Lovett’s. Lovett makes a surprised sound into Jon’s mouth, and Jon groans, pulling back.

Tommy doesn’t wait to lean around Jon and kiss Lovett, too, bending down awkwardly thanks to Jon being stuck in between them. Jon tries to step out of the way, but they both hold him fast. He would never say it, because he knows it’d sound weird and sappy outside his head, but the three of them together at this table, like how they were every day before they got a real office, feels stupidly significant to him. Meaningful in a way that makes his heart race.

“Okay,” Tommy says, breathless all over again. “Let’s go shower,” he says to Jon, kissing him before turning back to Lovett. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He flaps a hand at them. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Shut up,” Jon says, laughing, and kisses him again, just because he can.

Lovett’s grinning, too, but he keeps ducking his head like they won’t notice. “I’m going to steal a pair of pants. And the coffee I brought you.”

“That’s fair, steal away,” Jon says, and he means it. Lovett can have anything he wants of Jon’s, he thinks they’ve made that plenty clear this morning.

“Get out of my sight, you heathens.” Lovett kisses both of them again, soft and quick, before he goes into the kitchen, presumably to poach Jon’s coffee. “And no funny business!” he calls. “You’d better not keep me waiting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tommy yells back, tugging Jon in the direction of the bathroom. Softer, to Jon, he asks, “Remind me how big your shower is again?”

Jon can hear Lovett banging around in the other room, and he squeezes Tommy’s hand back. “Big enough.”


End file.
